


To Court A Lady

by OwlsWithFins



Series: Camelove 2021 [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Courting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Confused Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, Merlin is confused, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Merlin's pov, Mischief, Misunderstandings, S.4. E.11., Shenanigans, arthur's idea of romance is just telling merlin to do it for him, gwen is mischievous, mithian is sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/pseuds/OwlsWithFins
Summary: After Gwen is banished from Camelot, Merlin tries to support her from afar by sabotaging Arthur's courting efforts--a feat that proves far more complicated than he anticipated for a few key reasons:1) To Merlin's bewilderment, he seems to be the one doing all of the courting. Again.2) Mithian is perfect. Absolutely perfect. Which makes it very hard to sabotage her.3) There's theslightestchance that Merlin is falling in love with her. Maybe. Possibly. It's probably nothing.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Mithian (Merlin), background Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Camelove 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153178
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115
Collections: Camelove 2021





	To Court A Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This is my contribution for Day 6 of Camelove 2021: "Always By Your Side," featuring one of my (many) favorite side characters Princess Mithian. Merlin/Mithian is such an underrated pairing, and Merlin and Gwen's friendship really shines in The Hunter's Heart, so I wanted to give them both some love here. Hope you enjoy!

As much as Merlin rolled his eyes about it to Arthur’s face, he quite liked helping his prince court Gwen. Gwen was the kindest soul he’d ever met, and she deserved to be pampered and treated like royalty--far more than  _ Arthur _ did. Gwen’s smile was bright enough to light the entire castle, and Merlin loved bringing it to her face. 

Selfishly, there were other parts he liked as well. It was nice to be in on a secret with Arthur for once instead of keeping them from him. Collecting flowers for Gwen and writing love letters to her and preparing romantic picnics for her were certainly more enjoyable activities than mucking out the stables or washing Arthur’s dirty socks. And seeing Arthur so besotted and willing to do whatever it took to make another person--a  _ servant,  _ even--happy gave Merlin hope that the dragon’s destiny ramblings weren’t complete rubbish, even if Merlin was the one doing all of the actual work. It gave him hope that one day, Arthur would truly be the king Camelot needed. The fact that he got to spend more time with his two best friends was an added benefit since Merlin was frequently dragged along on their ‘alone time’ as a couple.

In short, Merlin was happiest on the days when Arthur gave him Gwen-related tasks, although he’d never admit it to Arthur--the prat would probably give him a whole list of horrible chores if he knew Merlin actually  _ enjoyed _ this particular workload. As far as happy days went, today was particularly special because Merlin would get to reap the full benefits of his labor.

“Gwen!” he greeted when he spotted her in the halls, doing his best to wave despite the multitude of bags in his hands.

A cheek-splitting smile found its way onto her face. “Merlin, what’s all this?”

Merlin let the bags drop to his feet, wincing when he heard something shatter. “Arthur asked me to plan a picnic for you, but then he got called into an emergency council meeting.”

“Oh, no,” Gwen said, worry twisting her features. “Is everything alright?” 

Merlin gave her a crooked grin. “Not for Lord Everton. Apparently, the people living on his lands think the taxes are too high. They’re rioting now, and from what I’ve heard, they’re winning. I’d be surprised if Everton remains a lord for much longer.” He hoisted the bags up onto his shoulder once more and lifted his brows. “I thought we could celebrate.”

Gwen’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and then she smacked Merlin playfully. “Celebrate? That poor man is going to lose everything,” she said, but she was barely keeping her amusement hidden. 

Merlin nodded with false solemnity. “He is. All that wealth he stole...all that food he didn’t grow...it’s all going back to the people who need it. Truly a tragedy for nobility everywhere.” His grin slipped back through the cracks in his mask. “But for us peasants, it’s as good a reason to celebrate as any. And I’ve already got the whole picnic packed!” 

Gwen rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, too. “Alright, I’ll join you. Just give me a minute to check in with Morgana, and I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

“You’re the best, Gwen.” Merlin gave her a kiss on the cheek before continuing down the hall. He glanced back to find her looking flustered and surprised, so he added cheekily, “The kiss was from Arthur.”

She grew even more flustered at that, and Merlin laughed as he ducked around the corner.

As they made their way past the walls of the citadel and into the forest, the air grew sweet with the nectar of spring flowers. Between the bubbling stream and the birdsong, there were enough musical sounds to create a delicate symphony. They didn’t take horses, preferring to walk and collect flowers, and by the time they arrived at their chosen spot, Gwen had so many flowers in her hair that she looked like a nature spirit. Merlin had them tucked into his boots, his neckerchief, and his belt, with two peeking out from behind his ears and a flower crown on his head, courtesy of Gwen. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

When Gwen helped him spread the blanket and set out the food, Merlin didn’t protest like he did when Arthur was around. In front of Arthur, Merlin never wanted her to feel like a servant, but when it was just the two of them, he knew she preferred to be useful rather than to sit back and watch others work.

“You know,” Gwen said as she divided helpings of fruit, bread, and cheese between their plates, “sometimes I wonder if it’s really you who’s courting me.” 

Merlin’s brows rose. “Don’t tell Arthur that. He’ll have me in the stocks for a month.” Arthur might claim otherwise when it came to tournaments and weapons training, but he didn’t like competition when it came to love. Merlin still remembered how torn up he was when they ran into Lancelot while rescuing Gwen from Hengist. Even in jest, it was probably wise not to bring up such bad memories.

Gwen smiled as she passed him his plate. “I wouldn’t dare. But I’m not wrong, am I? You do all the actual courting.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Merlin lied around a mouthful of bread.

Gwen gave him a stern look for his lack of manners, but she couldn’t hold it for long. “Arthur is terrible at poetry, so I know you’re writing his love poems for him. We’re both aware that he can’t cook to save his life, so the dinners and picnics are your doing. And he wouldn’t know a flower from poison ivy, so the bouquets must be from you as well. Earlier today, you even kissed me for him!”

Merlin almost spilled the wine he was pouring in his laughter. “Oh my gods, you’re right. We’ve accidentally been courting for months. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Gwen giggled, the strawberry she was about to eat dangling neglected from her hand. “I must say, you’ve been an excellent suitor for someone who didn’t know he was courting anyone.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Merlin mused. “Just imagine how much wooing I could do if I did it on purpose.”

Gwen popped the strawberry into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed (already much more suited for royalty than Merlin, what with having manners and all). “I’ve been telling you that for ages, Merlin. Now, if only you would court someone for yourself instead of for Arthur. You’re far too selfless, you know that?”

Gwen’s words struck him, even in their joking tone. After all, Merlin had given up everything for Arthur. For Camelot, too, even though their king burned people like him at the stake. Maybe someday when his and Arthur’s destiny had been achieved, he would court someone, or take a vacation, or even just get a full night’s sleep. But for now? For now, he had to be selfless. He couldn’t afford to be anything else--not if he wanted magic to return one day. Not if he wanted Arthur to live long enough to become this supposed king of legends. Not if he wanted the sacrifices everyone had made to mean something.

But Merlin couldn’t share all of this with Gwen, nor did he want to dampen the mood on such a bright and perfect day. So instead, he said, “If I was really selfless, I would have done the chores Arthur gave me instead of taking the day off for a picnic. He won’t be happy if he finds out I’m slacking off with his future queen.” 

Gwen smiled mischievously. “Then we’ll just have to keep this illicit affair a secret then, won’t we?” She popped another strawberry in her mouth, and she looked so rebellious that Merlin couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Years later, when Gwen was banished and Merlin felt more alone than ever with both her and Lancelot gone, Merlin thought back on that picnic with more regret than happiness, wondering if he was at fault for how wrong things had turned out. He had pushed Gwen and Arthur together more than anyone--more than they themselves did--and now they were both heartbroken, miserable, and alone.

Princess Mithian’s arrival only made everything worse. She was perfect in every way, but she wasn’t Gwen, and Merlin hated her for it. He hated the way Arthur could court her in public--was  _ expected _ to--in a way he couldn’t with Gwen. He hated the way Mithian laughed off whatever sabotage Merlin attempted during their outings. He hated that she and Arthur had common interests like hunting that made it all the more likely Arthur would fall in love with her--or at least, like her enough to marry her. But most of all, he hated that she was far too strong and compassionate and clever for Merlin to hate her as he wanted to.

The one saving grace was that there were no love poems this time. Since it was an arranged marriage ‘for the good of the kingdom,’ Arthur wasn’t expected to have feelings for Mithian already, and Merlin was grateful. His loyalty to Arthur would be tested if he was asked to craft sonnets for the woman replacing Gwen. But there were flowers (that Merlin gathered) and picnics (that Merlin prepared) and gifts (that Merlin picked out and then presented). And then the last straw: 

“Merlin, pick out a necklace for Princess Mithian in the market today. You know where I keep my gold.” 

Merlin was already making his way to Arthur’s locked chest with the key, grumbling all the while, when Arthur added, “Oh, and give Mithian a kiss for me, will you?” 

Merlin spun around to face Arthur. “What is wrong with you?”

Arthur didn’t glance up from the papers he was reading at his desk. “I assure you, I’m in perfect health.”

“It’s happening again.” 

Arthur sighed, apparently realizing Merlin wasn’t going to drop it.  _ “What’s _ happening again?”

“You’re making me court Mithian for you just like you did with Gwen!” Merlin tugged at his hair with clenched fingers. “It was ridiculous enough the first time, but now, it’s...it’s...it’s  _ maddening.” _

“You didn’t court Gwen,  _ Mer _ lin. You just...helped me achieve my romantic vision.” Merlin scoffed at the idea of  _ Arthur _ having romantic vision, and Arthur glared at him before crossing his arms. “And anyway, I don’t see how this is any different.”

“It’s  _ different _ because Gwen is my friend,” Merlin snapped. His magic sizzled at his fingertips as if preparing to face a threat. “You’re forcing me to help you court someone else when you’re  _ clearly _ still in love with Gwen--which isn’t fair to her. Or me. Or Mithian. Or even yourself!” 

Arthur didn’t flinch like Merlin assumed he would at Gwen’s name, and Merlin wondered if that meant he really had moved on. The thought made Merlin’s heart sore for his banished friend, but he still couldn’t quite make himself believe it. Arthur and Gwen  _ would _ marry. Gwen  _ would  _ be queen. It was destiny. Arthur couldn’t just...just  _ move on _ from that. If that was possible, Merlin would have saved himself loads of heartache and grief by moving on years ago to a kingdom where magic was practiced freely and dragons didn’t tell him to kill his friends.

“Merlin, I realize it’s difficult for a peasant like you to understand,” Arthur said calmly, “but your job is to follow orders and complete the tasks I give you, not to question my judgment or theorize about my feelings. You will do that job, or you will find yourself unemployed. Is that clear?”

Merlin’s magic was thrashing now, leaping up into his throat like flames, but he tamed it just as he tamed his mouth. Just as he always tamed himself when Arthur threatened to send him away. Even execution didn’t work so well as a threat. “Yes, sire,” he ground out.

Arthur nodded firmly and returned to his desk as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Merlin angrily unlocked the chest and dug out a few handfuls of gold to buy Mithian’s necklace and stormed out of the room. Arthur didn’t even look up.

After procuring the gift and returning the extra gold to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin knocked at the entrance to Princess Mithian’s chambers. It was tempting to buy something hideous at the market and blame Arthur for it, but he knew Mithian would be forced to wear it, so at the last minute, he switched to a gold necklace inlaid with pale pink pearls that he knew would suit her perfectly. It pained him slightly to do so, but as angry as he was at Arthur, he wasn’t truly angry at Mithian. Just...everything she represented. 

“My lady,” Merlin greeted, bowing his head. He presented the jewelry with a flourish, and she smiled archly at him. The sight made his insides flutter. 

“Hello, Merlin.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this from you or King Arthur?”

Merlin hid a smile then, as he always did when Arthur’s name was rightfully dragged through the mud in favor of his own accomplishments garnering appreciation. Mithian seemed to see Merlin’s role more clearly than anyone else, and it still startled him each time she guessed at the truth. “It’s from Arthur, technically,” he said, handing it to her so she could study it more closely. “But apparently going to the market is peasants’ work.”

Mithian laughed. It was less delicate than her usual laughter, and Merlin wondered if she considered Merlin too lowly to merit a courtly laugh or if she simply felt more relaxed around him. Whatever the reason, he decided he preferred this laugh. “You have exquisite taste,” she said, lips twitching, “for a peasant.”

Merlin was glad to see she was teasing, and then he admonished himself for forgetting to be rude to her. It was difficult to give Mithian the cold shoulder when they were alone. When Arthur was around, he was so much of a prat that Merlin’s anger made him terse no matter how kind or interesting Mithian was, but without him as a buffer, Merlin found himself reluctantly growing to like the princess. 

“I’m glad you like it, my lady,” Merlin said, polite but not overly friendly. 

“Help me put it on?” Mithian held the necklace out to him.

For some reason, Merlin’s heart raced in his chest at the request, but he nodded quickly and took the jewelry from her. When Mithian turned around, she drew her hair to one side, and he had to lean in close to fasten the necklace around her neck. It took everything in him to step away when the clasps connected. “There,” he said breathlessly. 

Mithian spun back around, lifting her chin to better present her neck. “How do I look?”

Merlin couldn’t remember how to form words for several embarrassing seconds. The delicate pink of the pearls matched the pink of her lips and cheeks, and the pale gold shined against her paler skin as if touched by magic. “Beautiful as always, my lady.” Then he remembered Arthur’s other demand, and he had warring urges to scream in indignation or give himself over to Arthur’s instructions wholeheartedly. “His Majesty also asked me to give you a kiss,” Merlin said, trying to quell both desires in favor of a casually insolent eye roll. “But I’m not sure he really thought that one through.”

Mithian’s eyes sparkled with mirth, even as her expression remained unchanged. “Well, we wouldn’t want to deny the king, now would we?” 

Merlin laughed, but it was strained. He felt suddenly nervous. “Right.” Merlin leaned in slowly toward her cheek, but before he made contact with his target, Mithian met his lips with her own. It was chaste and over before Merlin could process what was happening, but when they separated, he felt dizzy. 

Mithian pressed her glossy lips together, corners tugging ever-so-slightly upward. “Goodnight, Merlin.” Then, as an afterthought, “Give Arthur my regards.”

Merlin bowed awkwardly, wanting to escape the heavy tension in the air as soon as possible and also to never leave. “Goodnight, my lady.” 

He could have sworn Mithian’s eyes followed him all the way down the hall.

The courting-Mithian-through-Merlin only got worse after that, and Merlin was fairly certain Arthur was intentionally trying to drive him crazy. If he was, it was working. What was the point of _Merlin_ taking Mithian for walks around the gardens? How did that help her bond with _Arthur?_ Why didn’t Arthur come with them when they toured the lower town? Had Merlin missed the meeting where he got demoted to Mithian’s personal entertainer? 

Not that his new profession was too terrible, all things considered. Merlin would begrudgingly admit that Mithian was good company, and their outings had actually been quite enjoyable now that there was no king for Merlin to seethe at and no budding relationship for him to ruin. As loyal as he was to Gwen, Merlin couldn’t see any reason becoming friends with Mithian would make things worse. Either the marriage happened, or it didn’t. Merlin certainly wouldn’t be able to sway Arthur one way or another given how Arthur had been treating him lately. The king only cared for  _ Agravaine’s _ council these days.

For all he tried to convince himself he wasn’t betraying Gwen, Merlin was even more conflicted than usual today. Merlin often found himself wishing for the days when Arthur trusted him, when Morgana was good, when Gwen was still in Camelot, when Lancelot was alive, when life was easier and his great destiny seemed just on the horizon. But today, history was repeating itself too well, and it only made the differences between then and now more apparent.

“Merlin!” Arthur barked when he saw him in the halls. “Lord Vynor just called a last-minute council meeting to discuss his missing cows. Give Mithian my sincerest apologies, and let her know that you will entertain her in my place.” Arthur looked oddly smug, as if he was setting up a prank and Merlin would only realize it when it was too late. “Perhaps a picnic would be suitable.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said, knowing there was no use in protesting--even if Merlin’s stomach twisted at the memory of his picnic with Gwen. He took a few deep breaths to quell his nausea and set off to the kitchens to prepare their meal.  _ One of these days,  _ Merlin thought to himself,  _ Arthur is going to get attacked by an evil sorcerer, and I’ll be too busy bending over backward to meet his every whim to rescue him. _ Merlin spitefully added that it would serve Arthur right. Such thoughts didn’t stop him from taking a quick detour to put an extra protection charm on Arthur’s chest plate before making his way to Mithian’s chambers. Just in case. 

“Does this spot look alright, my lady?” Merlin asked as they slowed their horses.

Mithian eyed their surroundings, and Merlin realized a moment too late that it was the same spot where he picnicked with Gwen. “It’s perfect,” Mithian said. “Help me down from my horse?” 

Merlin was startled by the request, but he’d seen Mithian ask the same of other servants and knights numerous times during her stay in Camelot, so he couldn’t explain why her words made his head spin. As he slipped off of his horse, he released a bit of his magic. It was a trick he’d picked up sometime during his second year in Camelot to help him carry the ridiculous amounts of bags and armor Arthur had, and it was a habit now to let his control slip just a little whenever he needed some extra strength and coordination. His eyes might be flecked with gold, but the trickle of magic was so slight it shouldn’t be too noticeable--and it would certainly be better than dropping Mithian in his clumsiness.

His skin hummed as magic pulsed through his limbs like blood, and he wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to exist that way constantly, without fear of discovery or execution or banishment. Merlin always felt more sure of himself with his magic so near. He gripped Mithian’s waist, and she readily placed her hands on his shoulder. When Merlin lifted her, he was startled by how light she was. It was possible he had released more magic than he’d intended. He dropped his gaze just in case. 

After her feet touched the ground, Mithian didn’t remove her hands and Merlin didn’t either. They were standing close--too close for a princess and a servant--and Merlin felt his heart skip a beat. Hurriedly, he cleared his throat and stepped back, breaking the connection and tamping his magic back down.

“I’ll set up the picnic, my lady,” he said, turning away to search the bags for the picnic blanket. 

“I can help.” Mithian was in front of him again somehow, and she pried the blanket from his hands when he retrieved it. 

Merlin thought of Gwen, and his heart panged unhappily. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness.”

Mithian took the blanket anyway and spread it in a small clearing between the trees. “Mithian,” she said. 

Merlin had collected as much of the food as he could carry, and he gracelessly deposited it in a pile on the blanket. He followed suit shortly after, collapsing in a pile of his own limbs. “I’m sorry?”

“You can call me Mithian.”

“Er, why?” 

Mithian slipped her riding gloves off and stretched her arms above her before reclining on the blanket. “You call Arthur by his first name,” she pointed out. 

“That’s different,” Merlin said, placing strawberries, cheese, and bread on her plate. It seemed a cruel joke that the cook had given him strawberries, though he knew they were merely in season. The memory of Freya asking for them in the tunnels under the castle and Gwen popping one in her mouth during their picnic all those years ago made his heart pang. He did his best to ignore it.

Mithian glanced at him with interest. “Why is that?” 

“Well, because Arthur’s a prat,” Merlin answered automatically. “And you’re...” 

Mithian shifted onto her side, lifting up so she could study him better with narrowed, playful eyes. “I’m what?” 

Merlin flushed. “You’re a princess.”

“Arthur’s a king,” Mithian noted unhelpfully.

Merlin couldn’t explain why it was different without telling Mithian about the way his heart raced when she smiled at him or the way his skin tingled when they touched. He couldn’t tell her that the reason he called her by titles was that he needed the distance such formalities provided--needed the reminder of their difference in stations, of Mithian’s engagement to Arthur, of how stupid it was to grow to like the princess of Nemeth. “It isn’t appropriate,” Merlin said, and he couldn’t believe he managed to say such an uncharacteristic statement with a straight face.

Mithian looked equally skeptical. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

Merlin didn’t meet her eyes as he handed her a plate. “Mithian, then,” he said, giving in. Her name in his mouth was like a spell. Full of power and intent, it tugged gently at his magic, tempting it to rise up so he could taste the syllables, lap at the letters, savor the sound. Merlin filled his own plate in silence, trying to ignore the weight of Mithian’s eyes on him. He didn’t take any strawberries.

“So,” she said once Merlin began to eat, “what’s Arthur’s excuse this time?” 

Guilt rushed through Merlin at the reminder that Mithian had to settle for his company when she had signed up for Arthur’s. “I’m sure he wanted to be here,” Merlin told her, “but Lord Vynor’s cows have gone missing, so he called an emergency council meeting. Arthur had to attend.” 

Mithian smiled like they were sharing an inside joke. “Missing cows. How...pressing.”

Merlin wondered at the fact that she didn’t seem very upset that Arthur picked cows over her. Perhaps she didn’t expect much from this arranged marriage, or maybe she just hid her feelings well. Merlin felt the need to comfort her out of worry that the latter was true. “Arthur asked me to tell you that he’s sorry. It’s nothing personal. He just really cares about his kingdom, and sometimes that means he doesn’t have time for things like picnics, no matter who they’re with.”

Mithian rolled her eyes. “I’m not a piece of pottery, Merlin. You don’t have to try so hard to keep me from breaking.” Merlin didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Mithian continued, “I haven’t so much as seen Arthur in the halls in over a week, so I think it’s safe to say it’s personal.”

“A week?” Merlin repeated incredulously. “And you’re just... _ letting _ him get away with it?”

Mithian laughed. “I’ll admit that I might have even started hoping for it.”

Merlin pulled a face, lips contorted in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Mithian looked down at her plate and then back up again, smiling. “You’re much better company than Arthur is.”

Merlin choked. “...I am?” 

Mithian laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound, even if Merlin was utterly confused about its cause. When she noticed Merlin’s confusion, her laughter faded. Her head tilted to the side. “Is that so surprising? You yourself said Arthur was a--I believe the word you used was ‘prat.’”

“Well, yes,” Merlin conceded, knowing there was no point in arguing against that, “but why me?” 

Mithian looked almost admonishing now, the way Lancelot used to when Merlin made a comment that implied his lack of self-worth. “You’re kind, clever, funny, handsome. What’s not to like?” There was a threat in her voice like she might slap him if he viewed the question as anything other than rhetorical.

But Merlin was used to getting smacked around, courtesy of Arthur, and he knew the difference between good-intentioned horseplay and a malicious attack. He wasn’t afraid of Mithian. He  _ was,  _ however, convinced she must be having him on. “You’re joking.”

A hint of pink touched Mithian’s cheeks when she said, “I must confess, I hoped Arthur might ask you to kiss me again.”

“You...I...” Merlin stammered dumbly. He was blushing from the tips of his ears to well below his neckerchief. “What?”

Mithian noticed the way Merlin’s eyes darted to her lips, and she leaned in closer. “Perhaps you could give him this kiss for me?” 

It was those words that finally brought Merlin’s mind out of its befuddled chaos, just in time for him to be tossed into a new kind of disarray. Mithian’s lips met his, and Merlin hesitantly kissed her back. He expected her to draw back after a moment or two, leaving him with a chaste kiss easily transferred to Arthur, but the princess seemed to have something different in mind. 

As the kiss deepened, his mind buzzed with warnings and reprimands, even as the rest of him was overwhelmed by want. Mithian’s hands found their way under his shirt and began to explore the expanse of skin. Her fingers brushed almost reverently against each scar, and Merlin felt his magic surge in response, wanting to reach for her just as Merlin did--to caress her and pull her close and let her see every part of him. When they broke apart to catch their breath, Mithian’s eyes widened, and Merlin belatedly realized his eyes were almost certainly glowing gold.

He leaped back, panic setting in. He had known that sometimes happened when he kissed, but it had been so long that he’d almost forgotten. First Will, and later Freya and then Lancelot--all of whom knew of his magic already. All of whom were long gone. “I’m sorry. I--”

“Merlin,” Mithian said. 

His vision swam, and his heart thudded loudly in his chest. Gods, had he really made it this far just to be undone by such a frivolous slip-up? Thinking of how many people had given their lives to this cause only for him to ruin everything with a stupid mistake made him feel sick. The fate of  _ Albion _ rested on his shoulders and he had fucked it up for a  _ kiss. _

How long would Merlin have before Mithian told Arthur and he was executed or banished from Camelot forever? How long before his best friend,  _ his king, _ no longer wanted anything to do with him? Would Merlin even have time to say goodbye to Gaius? To Gwaine?

His internal panic was so loud that Mithian had to call his name several more times for him to pick up on her tone. When he did, he blinked rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes. Strangely enough, she didn’t sound frightened or angry but sympathetic. As he met her gaze, he saw her brows were pinched with worry, her eyes genuine and comforting with just a hint of sorrow.

“It’s alright,” she said, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, brushing at his tears with her thumb. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“...you’re not--”

“Magic isn’t a death sentence in Nemeth,” Mithian told him. “The practice isn’t common since Uther’s Purge swept through all of Albion, but I’ve met magic users before. And...well, I had my suspicions.” At Merlin’s renewed panic, she said, “You haven’t been obvious about it, don’t worry. There’s just...something about you, Merlin, and I wondered if this might be it.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “You’re really not angry? Or...frightened?” 

Mithian shook her head. “I’m really not. I take it Arthur doesn’t know?”

Merlin looked down, the familiar tendrils of guilt and regret curling in his stomach. “No, he doesn’t know. I plan to tell him...eventually. I just...” Merlin didn’t know what to say, but thankfully, Mithian seemed to understand. She squeezed his hand, and he finally stopped pulling away from her.

Levity found its way into her eyes once more, but Merlin could see the residual concern. “In that case, I’d like to withdraw my instructions to give that kiss to Arthur. The surprise might be too much for your dear prattish king.”

Merlin laughed, still feeling shaky about how close he might have been to his own execution if Mithian had been anyone else. If she had reacted any other way. It was terrifying to have his secret in the hands of another person, but it was also a kind of relief. It had been such a long time since Lancelot--the real Lancelot--and the appearance of his shade had only made it more obvious how lonely Merlin had been in his absence. Having another person know the truth and accept him...it was more than he thought destiny would allow. 

A second later, his eyes widened. “Oh, Gods. We just  _ kissed.” _

Mithian looked at him like she was worried he might have hit his head sometime in the last few seconds. “Yes. We did.”

“You’re betrothed to Arthur!”

“The kiss was for him, remember?” She sent him a teasing smirk. “Just give him a peck on the cheek or something and tell him it’s from me. I expect you can keep your magic under wraps for that?”

Merlin nodded, feeling extremely puzzled by everything that had happened today. 

They finished their meal with light conversation about food and the weather followed by a slightly heavier conversation about magic and destiny and then packed up and headed back to the castle. Merlin’s chest tightened with guilt and confusion, but his lips still hummed with the memory of Mithian’s kiss. He wondered if he was a bad friend to Arthur for going along with Mithian’s odd request and enjoying it or if he was a good friend to Gwen for making a gigantic mess out of this betrothal. Maybe both. He could probably live with that--that is, if he survived his next meeting with Arthur.

“Arthur,” Merlin greeted when he found the king in his chambers that afternoon. 

“Merlin,” Arthur replied. He looked like he was hiding a smirk. What was with him lately? All those hidden smiles and drastic changes in mood...It was giving Merlin whiplash.

Merlin walked up to his king and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry about this, but Mithian was very insistent.” 

“What are you talking about?” Arthur demanded, suspicion settling in. 

Merlin pressed his lips together as he looked Arthur over, trying to decide where to place Mithian’s kiss. “You can punish me later,” he said distractedly. A nose kiss would require Merlin’s mouth to be far too close to Arthur’s for comfort, and although a forehead kiss could be quite amusing, it didn’t convey the same degree of sincerity as a cheek kiss--and after the kiss Mithian gave Merlin for Arthur, sincerity was probably what she was hoping for. Cheek kiss it was, then.

“Merlin, what--” 

“Hold still,” Merlin muttered, ignoring the alarm on Arthur’s face as he gripped his shoulders tightly and leaned in to kiss him. He moved slowly enough for Arthur to truly begin to panic, pursing his lips obnoxiously. If Merlin had to suffer this for his king, then Arthur was  _ really _ going to suffer. Merlin knew he would have no chance if Arthur began to struggle, so the moment Arthur tried to shake him off, he darted in toward his cheek, making a disgustingly wet sound with his lips. Arthur yelped like Merlin had shot him with lightning and jumped back.

_ “What the hell was that?” _

Merlin wiped his lips on his shirt sleeve, making a face. “A kiss. From Princess Mithian.”

Arthur went from looking horrified to scarily pleased in a matter of seconds. “She kissed you?”

“Yes,” Merlin admitted, hating the way his blush returned full-force, probably giving away Merlin’s feelings on the event. 

Arthur’s brows rose, and he was grinning now. “I hope you didn’t wipe your mouth afterward like you just did to me.” 

“Of course not!” Merlin objected.

Arthur’s grin widened. “So it wasn’t just a cheek kiss then. She kissed you on the lips.” 

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “I...you...”

Arthur laughed, giving Merlin a pat on the back that sent him falling forward a few steps. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Merlin. Well done.”

“I--what?” Merlin was even more confused now than when he was on the picnic with Mithian. 

Arthur grabbed an apple from the table and bit into it, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up. 

When it became clear he wasn’t going to deign Merlin’s nonsensical sounds with a response, Merlin tried again. “You’re not...angry?”

“About what?” Arthur prompted, apparently even more of an idiot than usual today.

“Your betrothed kissed me! I kissed her back! We kissed!” 

Arthur’s mouth was hidden behind his apple, but Merlin could swear the king was laughing at him. “Are you finished?” 

Merlin’s jaw dropped again, but he forcefully snapped it shut. 

Arthur nodded his approval and pulled a scroll out of his jacket, pushing it across the table toward Merlin. Merlin eyed the scroll warily until Arthur said, “Open it.”

Merlin did. He read it. And then he read it again. He looked up at Arthur, and this time he didn’t even try to pick his jaw up off the floor. “Arthur?” 

“Yes, Merlin?”

“This says I’m to be your official Court Advisor.” 

“Only if you accept, of course,” Arthur said. 

“Is this really happening?” Merlin wondered if he should pinch himself. He wrinkled his nose. “Or is this just a nasty joke and the next thing you’re going to hand me is a pile of dirty socks?”

Arthur laughed, but he seemed to take pity on Merlin and sobered quickly. “It’s not a joke, Merlin. As Gaius helpfully pointed out to me a few weeks ago, you’ve been my closest advisor for years without the title. It’s only fair that everyone else will finally see you the way I do.”

“What, as a clumsy idiot?” Merlin asked, only somewhat joking.

Arthur looked down at his apple core to avoid Merlin’s gaze. He tried to appear casual, but Merlin could see him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “A clumsy idiot, yes, but one who is--at times, mind you--very wise.”

As the words sunk in, Merlin beamed at his king. “You’re really serious.”

“You seem to be having trouble understanding basic concepts today, Merlin. Perhaps I should take away your title.” He reached for the scroll expectantly.

Merlin snatched it away and tucked it into his neckerchief. “No, I don’t think so. No more mucking the stables for me.”

“Good,” Arthur said. He slapped the table definitively and stood to attend his papers at his desk. “Because I think King Rodor would object to my manservant courting his daughter, but Camelot’s Court Advisor is another story.”

Merlin blinked. “What?”

Arthur didn’t look up from his work, but Merlin had a feeling he wasn’t even reading anything, just trying to annoy Merlin. “You’ve been courting Princess Mithian for over a week, and I’m sure you’ve been very gentlemanly about it, but you will need to inform her father if you plan for your marriage to be viewed as legitimate.” 

“Our _ marriage? _ Arthur!” Merlin was going to throw his king out the window if he didn’t start explaining things soon, destiny be damned.

Arthur smiled at Merlin with furrowed brows, as if  _ Merlin  _ was the one making no sense. “You’ve taken her on walks, horse rides, picnics. You’ve bought her gifts, given her flowers.”

“For you! Because you told me to! Demanded it, really,” Merlin added with a glare.

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “So you don’t fancy the princess?” 

“I...what...that’s not--”

Arthur, the smug bastard, just smirked at Merlin until he stopped spluttering.

“Mithian would never let me court her,” Merlin said, knowing that was a real, rational argument, unlike the choked sounds he’d been making for half a minute. “She’s a princess, and I’m just--”

“The second most important man in Camelot, as of today,” Arthur said easily. 

That fact was too much for Merlin to process at the moment, so he pushed it aside. “You can’t just...just... _ play _ people like this. Mithian has been patient with you even when you completely blew her off, and you’re going to, what? Pawn her off on your manservant?”

Arthur sighed dramatically. “Merlin, calm down, will you? Mithian knows.” 

“She...knows? She knows what?” Merlin’s righteous anger wilted a bit at the realization that he still wasn’t getting the full picture. 

“I could tell she fancied you,” Arthur said, “so we worked out an arrangement.”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. “This was Mithian’s idea?”

“Technically, it was Gwen’s,” Arthur corrected. 

Merlin just stared at Arthur for several seconds, wondering if now would be an acceptable time to reveal his magic so he could use it to compel Arthur to tell him what the  _ fuck  _ was going on. “Gwen’s,” he repeated.

Arthur seemed to sense Merlin’s elevated antagonism, so he hurried on. “Gaius found something in the cell Guinevere was kept in: an object of enchantment. Once I discovered Gwen wasn’t responsible for her actions with Lancelot, I sent word to her. Gaius informed me she was most recently in Ealdor. I told her about my betrothal and asked if she could forgive me for rushing to judgment, and if she would still marry me if I broke things off with Mithian. She agreed, but I was worried about telling Mithian of my change of heart since I didn’t want to cause a rift between our kingdoms. Then I saw how she looked at  _ you, _ of all people, and I spent several days wondering if she had been enchanted like Gwen because surely no princess could fall for  _ you.” _

Merlin stuck his tongue out at Arthur, but the king continued his tale. “When I next wrote to Guinevere, she hatched the plan. She told me she’s never seen you court someone on your own behalf, and Mithian would probably be no different. She mentioned that if I were to convince you to court the princess  _ for me, _ you’d be more willing to do it. Mithian thought it seemed like a fun challenge to sweep you off your feet without your knowledge.” Arthur smirked. “From the sound of it, she succeeded.” 

Merlin gaped. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. “Hang on,” he said, fish mouth shifting into a frown. “What about Agravaine? Doesn’t he object to all this? And why isn’t he going to be your Court Advisor?” Merlin couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into his voice. His king trusting that traitor over him opened a wound that would take time to close.

Arthur’s face darkened. “Gwen backed up your claims about him. Apparently, she overheard Morgana and the warlord Helios discussing his betrayal. I haven’t decided what to do about him yet, but rest assured that I won’t be trusting him again.” Arthur turned back to his papers as if such earth-shattering revelations were of minimal importance. “You’re dismissed for the rest of the day, Merlin. I’ll make the announcement about your new position tomorrow morning, and George will bring you suitable clothes for the occasion.”

Merlin’s mind raced with the new reality he seemed to be living. “I haven’t even brought you dinner yet. What am I supposed to do for the rest of the evening?”

Arthur looked up at him, exasperation clear on his face. “I don’t know, Merlin. Do...whatever it is you do when you’re not working. Talk to Gaius. Go to the tavern. Pick flowers, like a girl.” His face shifted into a smirk. “Or perhaps you should find Princess Mithian and celebrate your new promotion.” Arthur then shooed him from his chambers, and Merlin went, flushing at Arthur’s implication. 

When he found Mithian several minutes later, she was wearing that horribly amused smile that Merlin usually found charming but now found to be terribly sneaky and evil. 

“I take it Arthur told you, then?” she asked.

Merlin was still having trouble processing exactly what had just happened, and he was certain it showed on his face. “Yes? I’m just--this entire time, I thought Arthur was making me court you for him, but in reality, Gwen was making Arthur make me court you...for me. Or you. Or both of us. And for some reason, no one thought to let me know any of this. Also, Arthur just gave me a promotion, and I’m still not convinced it isn’t a joke.”

Mithian tilted her head, still smiling but with a flicker of doubt in her gaze. “But you’re...pleased?” 

Merlin looked at her, and he melted. Despite the fact that he had the most ridiculous friends in the world and he was still struggling to make sense of everything, he couldn’t deny that he was happy to be courting Mithian. For himself, and not for Arthur. “I’m more than pleased,” he said. “Even if I think you’re all completely mad.”

Mithian’s smile bloomed into an expression so perfect it made Merlin’s heart stutter in his chest. “Good.” She linked her fingers behind Merlin’s neck and lifted up onto her toes, mischief glittering in her eyes. “Don’t even think about giving this kiss to Arthur.”

Admittedly, Merlin couldn’t think about much of anything once their lips met, but he had no intention of involving Arthur in their relationship ever again. He was quite content to be courting Mithian on his own terms and on his own behalf. His meddling friends could stay out of it. 

He would have vowed to stay out of Gwen and Arthur’s relationship as well, but he knew Arthur wouldn’t last a week without him. Perhaps he could organize a picnic for just the two of them to show his gratitude. Of course, Merlin would have to go as well to make sure his king and queen didn’t get murdered or kidnapped or horribly maimed, but he could hide behind a tree or something to give them some privacy. Or maybe set up another picnic twenty feet away to share with Mithian. He’d figure something out.

Before he arranged any of that, however, Merlin had some work to do. After all, Mithian had yet to experience his talent with love poems, and he no longer had to dumb them down to make it sound like Arthur wrote them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated 💖


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